


power fantasy

by renfa



Category: Life Is Strange 2 (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Power Dynamics, Sibling Incest, bratty Daniel, diazcest, no beta we die like men, set in blood brothers end, submissive sean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-12
Updated: 2020-05-12
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:35:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24109078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/renfa/pseuds/renfa
Summary: Jealousy bubbles up within him, hot and heavy and unstoppable. Perhaps it's time to teach Sean a lesson.
Relationships: Daniel Diaz/Sean Diaz
Kudos: 32





	power fantasy

**Author's Note:**

> this is. a hot fuckin mess im so sorry

There’s a feeling that bubbles inside him, hot and familiar as the summer heat that burns through his skin. It tugs at him, constant and persistent like an itch that wouldn’t go away. Despite not seeing them with his eyes, he could still hear them, their voices loud enough to echo in the silence of the garage. He turns his head, leans away from his seat to cast a quick glance at them. 

Dark haired, flawless skin, pretty face rouged with cheap drugstore makeup, and then a dress that barely hugs her form, showing off too much of her skin. She stares at his brother with a thinly veiled interest, babbling animatedly about all sorts of things, too keen to have his attention on her at all times. From the way she moves, it is clear that she’s trying to seduce him: her hands on his arm, her lips against his ear, their bodies side by side, too close for comfort.

When she says his name, it is with a seductive lilt, a melodic purr that nearly grates his ears. He tries to ignore it at first, tries to drown out her voice, her words, and focuses on something else. Tearing his eyes away from the two of them, he sets his attention on the painted walls. The rows of drawings that his brother made, like miniature decorations taped all over their new home. He studies them one by one, and sees how his brother has improved over the past few years. Dark lines that grow more and more complex with each drawing, and familiar faces that grow more and more beautiful with each portrait.

His brother, becoming more and more of an artist with each line drawn on a paper.

He moves on to something else: the series of photographs laid out on the table, scattered and messy. He looks at them one by one, grabbing one in his hands before tossing back the other, though at this point, he only vaguely recognizes the faces, his brain too foggy to recall their names and properly point out who is who. 

Try as he might, he could not ignore the prickle of jealousy that blooms in the pit of his stomach. No matter how much he tries to silence her in his head, he could still hear the woman’s voice, her words an incoherent babble against his unlistening ear. More words uttered, more pleasantries exchanged. Each second he finds it harder and harder to keep still, to focus on anything else but the two of them. Her laughter echoes down the garage, and anger begins to bubble up underneath, simmering just under the surface. There’s an itch in his hands, and a whisper in the back of his mind, tugging at his senses, urging him to give in. 

Closing his eyes, he takes a deep breath and clenches his fists, all too aware of his nails digging into his palm, sharp and painful. Remembering his brother’s words, he tries his hardest to calm down, to steady his own breathing. She’s just a customer, nothing more, nothing less. It wouldn’t do him any good to lash out at a complete stranger, especially if that stranger happens to have enough money to plan their future escapades.

“Oh, Sean, aren’t you a little too sweet for your own good?” he hears the woman say, her voice loud and high pitched. She giggles at something his brother has said and they exchange a few more words, joking and laughing together as though they’re the only ones left in the world.

What. The. Fuck. He grits his teeth and stands up from his seat, walking over to where they are with a barely concealed rage, his footsteps loud as it clicks against the cement. The woman turns her head to look at him just as he arrives. “Oh, is this your brother?” she asks, only mildly interested. She turns away from him before she could even receive a reply, her attention easily swaying back toward his brother.

He glares at her then, his anger flowing out of him in waves, unstoppable, undeniable. He’s much stronger than he is now and he barely even has to lift a hand to throw the woman back against the wall, slamming her back down with so much force that he could almost hear her bones snapping and breaking as she crumples down on the ground.

“Daniel, what the fuck!” his brother exclaims, his voice loud, his words a demand. He stands up from his seat and turns toward him, his expression a mixture of surprise and annoyance. Not fear, never fear; these days, he is never afraid of him anymore. Maybe it’s time to change that? “What the hell did you do that for?”

“I don’t like her,” Daniel replies simply, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly like he couldn’t care less about it. And it’s true, in a way. He really doesn’t give a shit about her, about any of these people. Just another life that faltered in his hands, just another corpse waiting to be buried in another stranger’s yard. “Too close, talks too much, touches you too much.”

“And you didn’t even try to stop her,” he adds, turning his attention to his brother, narrowing his eyes at him in a glare. “Just let her run her hands all over you, just let her talk your ear off, just let her flirt with you the whole time like you think I wouldn’t even fucking notice.”

“She’s a customer, for fuck’s sake,” his brother shoots back, obviously frustrated with how this conversation is going. Closing his eyes, he pinches the bridge of his nose, exasperated. “I’ve told you this over and over again: we can’t be rude to customers. We can’t drive them away. Not when they’ve got the money.”

“Well, she’s not a customer anymore,” he scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest as he stares back at his brother, his eyes hard with anger, challenging him, daring him to do something. “Not when she’s fucking dead.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” his brother shoots back, and now he could see the anger in his expression: the clenching of his fists, the tightness in his jaw, and the fire in his eyes, mirroring his. “You’ve been driving away every single one of our customers this week, and now you finally fucking snap and decide to kill one?”

“You haven’t been paying attention to me,” he replies, and somehow the words are a whisper, barely making a dent in the growing silence, heavy and uncomfortable. “Each time I want to hang out, try to do something with you, you’re always busy doing something else or trying to flirt with each fucking customer that passes you by.”

“That’s…” Sean begins with a sigh, rubbing his eyes tiredly as he tries to find the right words. “That’s called customer service, Daniel. I’m trying to be pleasant and approachable. We can’t scare everybody away. I’ve already told you this before.”

“Well, I don’t like it,” Daniel says with a shrug, uttering the words as though they’re the most obvious thing in the world.

“Then what the fuck do you want?” Sean shouts, his voice loud and deafening against the silence, his words an angry demand.

“You,” Daniel replies all too quickly, murmuring the words without missing a beat. It is an easy question, one whose answer he does not even need to think too hard about. “You. I want you.”

There is no waiting, no pause, only silence as his brother walks up to him, his footsteps and heavy against the floor as he moves closer and closer. Grabbing his face with both hands, he leans his head forward, his face close enough that he’s the only one he could see. “Oh yeah?”

He’s close now, close enough that he could feel his breath fanning against his lips, tickling him. A beat passes, and then another, and for a moment, the only thing they could do is stare at each other, their eyes locked with one another’s, drinking in the familiarity of the other’s gaze. And like a moth to a flame, they move toward one another, almost automatically: their hands resting on one another, their bodies pressed together, almost touching, skin against skin, yearning to be closer than ever.

There is hunger in the way they move, hunger in the way they put their hands on each other, touching whatever they could reach. His hands on his brother’s skin, fingers digging into his flesh, tender and yielding as he leaves his mark on him, hard enough to bruise. A primal need springs from within, and when he kisses him, it is with a violence that seems almost animalistic. Smashing his lips against his, he drinks him in and devours him. Swallowing down every noise that spills out of his brother’s lips, he nips and nibbles, teasing and playful, before finally biting down hard, savoring the taste of his blood on the tip of his tongue.

He pulls away from him and immediately latches his lips on his neck, his teeth sinking against his flesh, hard enough to draw blood. When he talks his voice is quiet and feral, violently primal. “You’re mine,” he whispers, and his words are almost a growl as he sinks his teeth again and again, leaving his mark against the already bruised flesh, hungry and possessive. “Don’t you ever fucking forget that.”

A moan spills out of his brother’s lips, loud and desperate against his ears. He watches him with a quiet satisfaction, watches as he tilts his head and bares his neck, his dark eyes aflame with a familiar desire. He does not need to say anything, does not need to tell him what he wants — not when he understands than anything else, not when he knows him better than anyone else in the world. And in the quiet, he bares his own teeth and yields, sinking his teeth against the tender flesh, littering his brother’s skin with marks of varying sizes, dark and angry, swollen and bloody.

One hand reaches for his brother’s trousers, fingers making a quick work of the zipper before yanking them down and leaving his brother only in his boxers. He does not take his sweet time, does not try to take it slow; briefly, he palms him through his underwear before he sneaks a hand inside his boxers and grabs hold of his cock, squeezing it hard enough to hurt.

There’s a pained whimper that spills out of Sean’s lips, and even then Daniel doesn’t stop to be gentle, merely stroking him rough and fast until the pain begins to blend in with pleasure. “Can that bitch make you feel like I can?” he asks, rubbing his thumb against the slit, squeezing him roughly once more and watching him closely as he begins to crumble. His brother opens his mouth to say something, though he chokes on his answer at the last minute, the words spilling out as another moan, long and drawn out as the pleasure builds up and clouds his sensations.

“I want to hear you say it, Sean,” Daniel taunts, his lips curling up into a cocky smirk. He stills for a little while and waits, watching in obvious satisfaction when his brother looks up at him with a frustrated glare. Raising an eyebrow at him, he prompts him to speak, still and silent as he waits for his reply.

“N-no.” It comes after a moment, quiet and stuttered, barely audible in the silence. But he takes it, anyway, giving his brother a satisfied smile and a gentle pat on the cheek. “Good.”

He resumes his previous actions, instantly setting a hard pace, giving his brother no time to recover. With his other free hand, he wraps it around Sean’s neck, his fingers closing in around his brother’s throat, hard. He watches him struggle, his breath hitching in his throat, his lips parting open to make a sound, torn between wanting him to stop and wanting for too much.

With his nerves on fire, his brother struggles to form words, his name falling quietly from his lips as he begins. “D-Daniel, I…” he says, or at least tries to, but the words remain stuck in his throat, dying before he could even begin to say them.

“Do you want to come?” he asks, and is immediately answered with a quiet nod, shameless and desperate. He likes him like this: his face flushed, his skin sweaty, his lips bruised and swollen from all the kissing. “Say you’re mine, Sean. Say you’re only mine, and maybe I’ll let you.” 

A noise spills out of his brother’s lips, halfway between a moan and a whimper, and he slows his movements, switching from rough and brutal to light and teasing, almost agonizing. “Come on, Sean. I want to hear you say it.”

“I…” he begins and then stops. A breath, a pant, a pause, struggling for the right words. “I-I’m yours, Daniel. I always have been.”

“That’s right,” Daniel says with an approving nod of his head. “You’re mine and don’t you ever fucking dare forget that. Ever.”

Rubbing his thumb against the slit, he then returns to his ministrations, immediately setting up a brutal pace, stroking him mercilessly like he can’t wait to see him fall apart. Already used to the roughness of his brother, Sean does not complain, merely bucks his hips up against Daniel’s hand, wanton and shameless, desperate for more of his touch. From the way his cock twitches in his hand, Daniel could tell that Sean is growing closer and closer to his release, and so he quickens his pace, keeping his eyes on his brother’s face, waiting for him to finally crumble, to come undone right before his eyes. 

His other hand tightens around his brother’s throat, depriving him of his breath. He watches him as he struggles, flailing his arms wildly around, torn between wanting him to let go and wanting him to be rougher. With one hand around his throat and the other wrapped around his cock, stroking him, getting him off, it does not take too long for the pleasure to overwhelm his senses. He parts his lips open, Daniel’s name falling out of his mouth like a choked out prayer, and finally crumbles.

He watches him closely, carefully, drinking the way his body moves as the sensations rip him apart: his eyes dazed and unfocused; his skin flushed and sweaty; and his legs shaking ever so slightly as the final tides of pleasure slowly begin to ebb away.

He lets him go, lets him fall, watching in quiet satisfaction as he crumples to the ground, panting and gasping as he tries to catch his breath. Taking one last look at the state he has left his brother in, he turns around and begins to leave, his lips curling up into a wicked smile, large enough that it almost seems like a predatory grin.

There, that should teach him a lesson.

**Author's Note:**

> me writing smut: *vague hand gestures* and then they boned! one day ill write a proper fucking fic but today is not that day
> 
> i also have a [twitter](https://twitter.com/mothfucking/)


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